


Snowfall

by tresa_cho



Category: RED (2010), Unstoppable
Genre: Action/Adventure, Drama, M/M, Other, Trains
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-19
Updated: 2011-09-19
Packaged: 2017-10-23 20:52:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/254856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tresa_cho/pseuds/tresa_cho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>William Cooper receives an assignment he'd rather not take. When he sees the civvie he's working with he is even less impressed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snowfall

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Crossover Challenge at jim_and_bones. Beta'd by ellipsisthegreat

William clenched the neck of the coat closer around his chin, sinking into the chair. He huffed out his discomfort, breath a silver cloud in the compartment of the train. Beside him, the bright-eyed kid adjusted something incomprehensible on the console. Ahead of them, the achingly cold Siberian night stretched out, snow streaking past their window like white strings of ice splitting the grey sky.

Tucking his feet up against the only part of the dash that didn't have a switch or control, William grunted. Colson's eyes flicked over him briefly.

“You're not cold are you?” he asked, a slight smirk on his lips.

“Fuck you,” William said. “We're in Alaska.”

“You're the one who dragged me out here. You don't hear me complaining,” the kid said lightly. “Never thought my cousin would get me out of Scranton with a government deal.”

“What's to complain about paid retirement at twenty-five, full benefits?” William said harshly. “Pretty cushy deal for a conductor from bumble.”

“Yeah. So my question is what brings you out here. Obviously you have better places to be. Warmer places, perhaps.” The kid flicked something else on the console, and the cabin lights dimmed. The train's headlights plowed through the depressing grey mist of the terrain, lighting up snow, snow, and more fucking snow.

“My boss tells me to jump, I ask how high,” William said. He shifted deeper into his jacket, tucking his nose deep in his body heat. “That's how it works when you're on the government's payroll.” Colson reached out and gave him a gentle shove. William snatched Colson's wrist out of the air, giving it a nasty twist. “Don't. Touch me.” He released the man's wrist with too sharp a motion.

“Right. Pissy government agent. Got it.” Colson returned his eyes to the tracks before them, laden with snow and barely passable. William folded his arms across his chest, wincing as chill air swept into the folds of his jacket. “You gonna be like this the whole way? It's a long trip.”

“Possibly.” William concentrated on the tracks sweeping by under the nose of the train. Cold seeped into his bones. This trip was punishment, pure and simple. Distinct, ruthless punishment for the vice president incident. They had told him there would be no corrective actions taken against him, but all that meant was he got the shit jobs. The jobs that took him through Siberia on a train that was a strip of duct tape away from falling apart.

The snow made him think of his kids. They wouldn't mind it. They'd drag him into a snowball fight, or stuff iceballs down his shirt. He sighed. His wife would laugh at him when he complained of red, pre-frostbitten skin. She'd help him warm up with hot cloths and warm drinks...

“You gonna teach me some Russian or something? Isn't that where we're going?” Colson asked. William grunted noncommittally. The sound of the train rolling over tracks changed suddenly, and the ground dropped away without warning. “We're on the bridge,” he said, sounding a bit awestruck. “They said this couldn't be done.”

“Anything can be done with enough money,” William said, eyes straining in the dark. They were over the Bering Strait.

“And why haven't we told the Russians what we've built?” Colson glanced at him, gloved hands tight around the train's controls. William felt the train shudder in the frozen wind. “You'd think they'd notice something like a giant freaking construction yard on their doorstep.”

“Nobody lives in Siberia. It wasn't difficult,” William said. He dug his hands deeper under his armpits. So cold.

“Dude, I can hear your bones rattle,” Colson said with a laugh. “Grab the extra blanket from the cot if you're so cold.”

It was something his wife would say.

“Fuck you,” William said with a disgusted shudder. His wife's warm endearments should not be coming out of Colson's mouth.

“That's one giant stick you got there,” Colson said, “Who wedged it up so far?” He laughed at William's glare, unperturbed. William noted that Colson's eyes never left the rails in front of them. He shifted deeper in his chair. The blanket was starting to sound like a good idea. “These tracks are moving something fierce.”

“What does that mean?” William sat up in his chair, gripping the handrests.

“It means I have to slow down or we'll get blown off the tracks.” Colson flicked something on the console. The train shifted beneath them. “I don't think you'd fancy a swim in these conditions.”

“No.” William watched Colson's hands carefully. He didn't know how to drive a train, but he may have to take over at some point. They had to rest eventually.

“So what's back there that requires a CIA escort?” Colson asked conversationally.

“I thought they paid you not to ask questions.” The train gave a slight shudder. He shifted uneasily in the chair.

“Sorry if I don't want to sit here in silence for the entire ride.” Colson seemed unworried that the train moved in directions other than forward. He cursed under his breath. “I have to slow down some more,” he said in response to William's glance. “How long is this bridge?”

“It's twenty five miles till we touch land again, and another twenty five to Russia.” He stared at the twitching controls on the console. “What's wrong?”

“Weather patterns,” Colson said. “These winds are stronger than I thought.” He flashed a grin at William. “We'll be fine. We're just going to lose a few hours.”

“Just get us there in one piece.”

“Not nervous, are you, Bones?”

William glared at him. “What?”

“Bones. I have to call you something. We're both Wills.” He talked as if it were the most obvious topic in the world. “You can call me Jim. It's my middle name.” William rolled his eyes and scoffed. “Ah. There's the island. I don't suppose we're allowed to stop?”

“We can't. We have a deadline.”

Colson nodded. The train picked up speed when they hit the island, blowing through it in under five minutes. The ground dropped away once more, and they were again over the roiling ocean. Colson said nothing more while on the bridge, concentrating on the controls and the shaking train under them.

William couldn't help the sigh that escaped when they hit land again. “Welcome to Russia,” he said under his breath. Colson hummed agreement. “Turn the radio on. I have to hear if they're contacting us.”

Colson flicked a switch and static sang in the compartment. “Nothing. Not even a station. We're really far out.” He moved to switch it off, but William stopped him.

“Leave it. I have to hear if we're being contacted.”

Colson narrowed his eyes. “Do you speak Russian?”

“Yes,” William said.

“Cool. Speak any other languages, or just a bilingual sort of guy?”

“I speak Mandarin, Russian, Spanish, Italian, French, Polish, and Arabic.”

Colson whistled. “Polyglot. I'm suitably impressed.”

William was suitably impressed Colson knew that word. “Nobody will contact us this far out. We've still got a few hours.”

“Enough time for something to eat?” Colson asked too eagerly. William nodded, and Colson bounded out of his chair. The door to the small cabin burst open with a clang, and Colson disappeared into the dim light of their sleeping quarters. He emerged a few moments later, two sandwiches clutched in hand. He dropped one in William's lap and fell back into his chair with a heavy sigh. William was, not for the first time, grateful they were not doing reconnaissance that required silence. “Let me guess, you've trained your body to go days without food or water or sleep. Super Secret Service Man, right?”

“Do us both a favour and just shut up,” William said, tearing into his sandwich. Colson hummed around the ham and rye in his mouth. “I'll take first watch.” William wrapped the crumbs in the used foil and tossed it in the trash at his feet. Colson eyed him.

“Can you drive this thing?” he asked hesitantly.

“No. It's a train. It goes in a straight line. We're miles away from even the nearest prison compound. There's time for you to sleep before we have to do any actual steering.” William glared at him.

“Don't look at me like that,” Colson said. He chucked his foil into the trash.

“Like what?”

“Like you're somethin' better than me.” Colson stood. “I'm tryin' to be friendly and you're shooting me down. What's your problem?”

William surged up from his chair. Colson took a slight step back. “My problem?” William growled. “My problem is guys like you,” he shoved at Colson, “swinging their dicks around their women like they own 'em.”

“What? What the fuck are you talking about?” Colson's back hit the wall with a solid thud.

“Did you feel strong? Scaring her?” William crowded Colson against the wall. Colson lifted his arm to strike, but William blocked it easily. “Think you could get her to do what you wanted by force?”

“You're out of your mind.”

“No. You're out of your mind if you think laying hands on a woman makes you more of a man.” William pressed hard into him. Colson jerked, breath hitching. “I could bust you in half a thousand different ways with my bare hands.” William breathed low over Colson's neck. “You scared yet?”

“No,” Colson lied. William could feel him shudder in his grasp. He let go, gave Colson a rough push towards the cabin doors. The kid didn't go quietly. He whirled, throwing a blind haymaker. William easily stepped under it, using his elbow and ankle to control Colson's drop in the enclosed space. Colson hit the deck hard, a harsh gasp escaping when William planted his free elbow in the small of his back.

“You can't beat me,” William said quietly. “I will break every bone in your arm if you try that again. You hear me?” Colson nodded. William released him, standing. Colson got to his feet holding his arm. He slunk into the adjoining cabin without another word.

Breathing harshly through his nose, William threw himself into his chair. He curled around himself again, trying to regain the warmth. One hand reached into the folds of his jacket. His fingers ran over the smooth contours of worn leather. His wallet. Void of any images or identifying marks while he was on a mission, but he could feel the pocket that belonged to his family photo.

He exhaled sharply. This was going to be a long trip.

Hours later, Colson returned to the cabin, wrapping in a blanket and still fuzzy from sleep. He collapsed into the chair next to William's. “That's not what happened,” he said without preamble.

“Did you sleep at all?” William asked curtly.

“Screw you. I never touched her.”

“You threatened. That's more than enough to earn your way onto my permanent shit-list. Just keep your mouth shut and I won't be forced to drag you behind the train,” William said.

“Look, I was angry, and I got a little out of control, I get that but-”

“No.” William cut him off. “You threatened your wife, whom you swore to love and protect. And you pulled a gun on a law enforcement officer. I read the reports. Shut up before I actually hit you.” Colson finally clamped his mouth shut, focusing instead on the controls in front of him.

William stood. His legs creaked with the cold, and he winced as he made his way to the adjoining rest area. He shut the door, but not enough to block out the sound of static still sliding across the radio frequencies. He shrugged off the heavy outer layer and his suit jacket, dropping them on the mussed cot. Colson hadn't bothered to make the bed.

Drawing out his gun, he nudged his pack out from under the bed. He opened it, pulling out the kit he used to clean his weapon. Methodically, he stripped the weapon and cleaned every inch of it. He let his mind settle as his body went through the routine motions. Do the job, get out alive. Do the job. Get out alive. His mantra the last few missions.

He didn't sleep either, just stared and tried to rest his mind amidst the cold.

A few hours later he opened the cabin door to see Colson hunched over in his chair, rubbing his leg furiously. William couldn't ignore the grimace. “You all right?” he asked, sitting. Colson brushed away a fold of the blanket with a soft hiss of pain.

“A train crushed my foot. It hurts when it gets cold,” Colson said, bouncing the foot. William sneered.

“Old man.”

Colson grunted. “We've started picking up channels,” he said, gesturing to the radio. “You gonna do your Russian thing?”

“Not until they demand we stop. Or we have to switch tracks.” William dragged his coat closed.

“What exactly are we carrying?” Colson asked quietly. “And why are we sneaking into Russia to deliver it?”

“I'm not at liberty to disclose that,” William said. “Just know that it's important enough to give you a cushy future.” Colson scowled but dropped the subject. They continued on in silence.

The radio pinged suddenly, a blunt command that William couldn't ignore. He stretched across Colson and gripped the comm. He muttered a response into the receiver, feeling Colson's incredulous stare. The voice on the other end replied in curt Russian, and William tucked the comm back into place. “We have the go ahead to cut around Yakustk,” he said. “You're going to have to switch tracks at the next junction. Head south. The river's mostly glacier this time of year, so be careful of the bridge shaking.”

“Right,” Colson said hesitantly. He kept his eyes forward, intent on the crushing blackness of the Siberian night. “Bones,” he said sharply. William sat up in his chair despite his irritation. “There's something out there.”

“What?” William stood, leaning against the console to try and make out what Colson was seeing. He could barely make out dark shapes against the night, riding alongside the tracks. He cursed. “They were supposed to fix this for me. This is bullshit. I'm calling-”

A slug punched hard through his shoulder and he went down, frigid Arctic air whistling into the cabin through a hole in the window. Colson slid from his chair. He dropped to the ground over William, breathing hard.

“ _Fuck_.” William grunted, gripping the wound. Colson closed his hand over William's shoulder, providing pressure.

“Don't move,” he said. “Give me your gun.”

“Fuck you,” William said. “I'm not giving you a loaded weapon. Drive the goddamn train.”

“We have to get that window fixed. We're going to freeze to death,” Colson said, completely ignoring him. “Hey. I said don't move.”

“You're not a doctor,” William said, pushing himself up. He hazarded a glance out the window. The train was being paced by a few all terrain vehicles on both sides. Definitely unfriendly. Another bullet cracked through the window, lodging itself in the dash above Colson's head. “Stay down.”

“No worries there,” Colson said shakily. “I'd feel better if I had a gun.”

“No,” William said, leaning against the chair cushions. He had to get hold of his thoughts. Had to come up with a plan. This was rigged. The whole set up was shot to hell, and he had a bad feeling that he was supposed to take the fall for this.

He pushed open the cabin door to their sleeping quarter.

“Hey! Where you going?” Colson called after him. William ignored him, moving determinedly on his hands and knees towards the cargo cars. Thumping behind him told him Colson was following.

William leaned hard against the wall and pushed the door to the first cargo car open with too much effort. He panted as he entered the car, and approached the first crate of hazardous materials they were supposed to be delivering. Colson hovered in the door, unsure what to do with himself. William kicked at the edge of the crate once, twice, three times till it snapped and opened, pouring hay and packing chips onto the floor.

“Should you be hitting chemical containers like that?” Colson asked cautiously. “Don't they tend to... explode... and be hazardous?”

“They're not chemical containers,” William said. “There's nothing here. This was a set-up.”

For a moment, only William's harsh breathing sounded in the car.

“What?” Colson gulped, squinting at him in the dim light. “Come again?”

“It's a set up. I'm being blacklisted, and you're coming along for the ride,” William said. “Why do you think your offer was so damn good?”

“That explains why the train felt so light over the bridge,” Colson said. He sat back on his heels, leaning against the door. “So we're sitting on a hundred kilos of nothing, is what you're telling me.”

“Essentially.” William shifted, leaning against the busted crate. He exhaled shakily. He could feel blood slipping down his ribs. “I've got to get a comm out. I know people.”

“Tell me what to do,” Colson said swiftly.

“You've done enough already.” William tried to get to his feet but staggered. Colson was up in an instant, under his good arm. William tried not to recoil.

“Tell me what to do,” Colson said again.

They made their way back to the front of the train, staying close to the ground at all times. Colson propped William against the back wall and crawled towards the console. He stretched for the comm, and William saw blood on his jacket. His blood. Christ. He must be worse off than he thought. The cold was probably just numbing him to it.

“I need you to boost the signal and transmit what I say exactly,” William said around a thick tongue. Colson shifted under the console, tugging out an access panel. He stripped his gloves off and dug his hands into the exposed wires underneath. William forced his eyes to stay open for the length of time it took for Colson to pull his head out of the guts of the train console.

“I had to cut the power to the heater. It's not doing much anyway. This thing is a bucket of crap.” Colson glanced back at William and pressed his lips together. He reached for the discarded blanket on his chair and crawled to William, forcing the cloth around his shoulders. William didn't have the strength to push him away. “You're really pale.”

“Just transmit what I say,” William said with effort. Colson nodded, returning to the console. William wracked his brain for the codewords for a pick up Moses had given him. Colson managed to repeat him word for Russian word into the console until William ran out of breath.

Something loud clanged against the wheels of the train. William froze.

“What was that?”

Colson gritted his teeth and peeked over the ledge of the busted window. He swore colourfully before dropping to the ground again. “They're trying to derail us.”

“At least we'll freeze to death before they shoot us,” William said through chattering teeth. Colson glanced between the sleeping quarters and the cabin.

“We'll have to stay here. If they derail us there's a lot less movable junk in here. We won't get crushed by a cot.” He slunk to the cabin door and forced it shut, locking it in place. He cast a wary eye at William. “We should get you tied down somewhere.”

“Look, I'm sorry, man,” William said before he could stop himself. “They shouldn't have dragged you into this.” Colson shrugged.

“I should have known it was too good to be true. I think you're going delirious on me, Bones.”

The wheels clanged again, and the train gave a sickening lurch. William threw his hands out for support, splayed against the wall. Another bang, and suddenly the world was spinning. No. The train was going sideways. Colson threw himself at William, encasing him in shocking warmth as the ground reared up under them. The train tipped with a deafening scream of sheering metal, throwing them both against the opposite wall of the cabin. Everything went black.

...*...

“Hey. Hey, Bones. Don't move.”

William groaned as pain flared from... _everywhere_. He opened his eyes and saw the cabin awash in red emergency lighting. His head was pillowed against something soft and... gurgling. He arched, trying to see, but a hand on his head stopped his movement. “I said don't move.”

He couldn't feel anything except pain. “What happened?” he asked hoarsely.

“We derailed. They haven't come looking for us yet. I think they're searching the cargo cars. They may think we're dead. I think we're dead. I feel dead.” Colson sighed. It was then William realised his head rested on Colson's stomach. Colson curled around his head, scrunched awkwardly into a corner. “I don't think I can move. God. It's fucking cold. I think we're stuck here for a bit. I hope whoever you contacted owns a fucking army. I think I'm delirious now too. Ugh.”

“We can't both be delirious,” William said. “Someone has to fight them.”

“I'd rather they put me out of my misery,” Colson said with a groan. He shifted again, and William followed his stretch. He reached for the bloodstained blanket, tugging it over William sluggishly. “Don't move.”

“You told me that already,” William said. Something clanged near them. “Did you hear that?”

“Yeah. They're getting close.” The hand in William's hair tightened. “This is a sucky way to die. I think I'd rather have gone over the curve into the vat of chemicals.”

Three heavily coated figures burst into the cabin, weapons raised and shouting in muffled Russian. “No habla espanol, assholes,” Colson said over them. The intruders reached, gripping both of them. “Hey! He's hurt. Don't move him. Let go. Agh.”

Pain spiked in William's shoulder as he was hefted off the ground. He couldn't even shiver, and when they dragged them outside the wind felt like small knives stabbing into his skin everywhere. They were dropped unceremoniously to their knees in deep snow, Colson cursing the whole way.

“Colson,” William warned when he saw a gun raise level to the conductor's head. “Colson! _Jim_!”

Colson shot him a surprised look, closing his mouth. The gun lowered, but Colson's eyes never left him. The commandos were shouting at him over the roar of the ice-laden wind, but William couldn't hear them anymore. He could barely kneel upright. A hand fisted hard in his hair, baring his throat to the cold. A shot rang out, but William never felt the sharp strike of a bullet tearing through him. Instead, something hard slammed into him, driving him into the packed snow and covering him with warmth. A hand cradled his head, and he sank into darkness.

...*...

Pins and needles along the length of his body forced him awake, choking on his breath. His eyes flew open, taking in a dimly illuminated ceiling. He shifted. He was in a bed, stripped to his boxers, and someone else was in the bed beside him.

He jerked upright, and the consequent punch of agony in his chest drove him back against the pillow. He gasped, and settled for maneuvering his head, as it hurt the least. His eyes found a head of sandy-blonde hair tucked just under a thick woolen blanket.

“You'll have to forgive the accommodations. I'm afraid I had no room to spare.”

William jerked again. The voice emanated from a stout Russian man. One of Frank Moses' cohorts. Ivan Simanov.

“Thank god.” He let his head drop onto the pillow. His fingers curled unconsciously at Colson's back. “You found us.”

“Barely, comrade. Needless to say, this is a one time happenstance. In exchange for the assistance you provided during the vice presidential incident.” Simanov moved to a spot William could more easily see him. “Apparently the incident was not as finished as we originally thought.”

“Someone in the Agency blacklisted me. I think it has to do with the vice president's incident. I can't go back,” William said. Simanov nodded.

“I will, of course, provide assistance to return you to a more civilised part of Europe, or Asia, should you choose. But after that I cannot be of any further help to you. You will be on your own.”

William nodded and Simanov bowed slightly.

“If you will excuse me, I must contact Frank and inform him of your retrieval.” He left the small, fire-warmed room.

Colson shifted, rubbing painfully against William's shoulder. He woke with a small grunt, blinking around in confusion. “What happened? Where are we?”

“Safe. For now,” William said. Colson pushed himself up, forcing the blanket back from both of them. William shivered as cool air swept over his bare chest, and he froze when he saw the bandage wrapped around Colson's ribs. Colson followed his gaze, and to William's surprise, blushed slightly.

“Sucky way to die,” he said, voice hoarse. “Shot execution style in the snow and left to die in Siberia. Definitely sucky. I wouldn't wish that on anyone.”

“Did you...” The sensations finally slotted into place in William's mind. “You took that shot for me.”

“Maybe,” Colson said shiftily.

“Why?”

Colson shrugged lightly, laying back down against William without an ounce of shame. “Nobody deserves to die like that. Especially not someone who's given his life to the country.” William said nothing, shock closing his throat around the words. “And for the record, not that you care, but I hate myself for even lifting a hand to my wife. I would shoot myself before doing it again. And I didn't threaten that cop. He trumped up the situation for the restraining order.” Colson sighed, a hot, wet thing against William's arm. “I'm an awful person, but I'm trying to be better.”

“I hope you left her on a good note,” William said. “Because you won't be able to go back.” Colson stiffened, eyes shooting up. “The Agency thinks we're dead. If they find out we're not, they're going to try harder next time. And get our families involved.” Colson pushed himself away from William, horror clear on his face.

“I didn't sign up for that,” he said harshly. He started to climb from the bed, but William gripped his wrist.

“Do you love your family?” William asked.

“Of course I love my family,” Colson said sharply. He tugged on his arm, but William held him firm.

“Then you can't go back. They'll kill them, I swear.”

“You don't know that-”

“I do,” William cut him off. “Because I used to do that.” Colson stilled. “The Agency makes people disappear, Jim.”

“I can't just...” Colson closed his mouth and swallowed hard. “What will they tell her?”

William couldn't help but be impressed with this kid. “That there was an accident. No body was recovered. The funeral will be closed casket. Immediate family only. The government will pay for it all.”

“Good to know my tax dollars are going somewhere,” Colson said weakly. William reached up and drew a hand through Colson's hair.

“Look, kid. I'll help you. I'm in the same boat. I can't go back either.” He gripped the back of Colson's neck firmly. “I'll help you. I owe you my life. It's the least I can do.” Colson hummed absently, his blue eyes clouded in the flickering light of the fireplace. “Jim?”

“All right,” Colson said finally. “All right. I've always wanted to see Ireland.” William nodded.

“We're going to be moving a lot. You're going to have to learn a lot of languages.”

Colson grimaced. “I suck at languages.”

“I'd noticed,” William said. Colson's lips turned up with the barest hint of a smile. William returned the slight grin.

It was a start.

**Works inspired by this one:**

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